bildings in roowins
I rite with brokin-hand


it is the year of the unlord-tyms 2085
and skool hadbin abolishd since fyv decades
evrything in disrepair -
                    no hospitills no parks
                    no creche no greens
all grey and dark

now here I lie amid the rubble
I see they took my legs for under-market
what else did they take?
**** *******!
belly rumbles
the last I'd eaten was 2 days on
a chunk of hard-bread whose colour would turn envy in its boots
with artifishal-milk whose curdled smile greeted the back of my arid existence

**** bastarrrrrrds! they put me under, sawed off my legs
left me hobbling with jagged wounds and smirk-pain like hot-rods searing my brand-new stubs
elementary-bandage of an old sheet torn into strips...

wait, I must use this anger as fuel to get me going
she told me so
many, many times..




(I can remember my mother reading to me
reciting from her memory
they had burnt evry-single-book Man had ever known
                My eyes have never been graced with a book
but
she tort me words with stick in sand
and counting with stones
and there were many stones
               she fed me poetry when there was little else to eat
with fainting-body and starving-belly
my mind took pleasure in her ultimate-care
               she told me of a time when childrin took poor-interest
in the blessings of a book.. wen their minds were swallowed wholemeal by what they called media, I think
when they were not saddled with the worry of their next meal's magical-appearance
                (I can spell 'their' at least, yes.. she made sure I knew the difference)
the only pictures I saw were the ones she drew for me
in the volcanic beach-sand when we ran away from the parasitic-city
                I knew nothing of the world but what I saw around me
                        - decay, decay, decay
until she brought me colour - rite into the hart of me -
                           blooms that hurt at first, so bright and giving
                           that it saturated every molecule in my parched-centre
                           and I became a rainbow-suffused capsule in a otherwise drab-society
such wonder she spoke with open-eyes and loving-tones

and I also remember.. the day they took her..
I remember.. too much)



I crawl forward like a snake in the .. wait, what was that expreshin again?
I'll think later when I find a place to harbour my broken-body
                     thought is a luxury here
thers a horrible smoke in the air
          stings me so
and I miss her so
I have nobody left
but I cannot feel forsaken, as so many do
and succumb to self-pity
she made sure my armour grew
                 from the inside.. first
yet.all.the.while.she.watered.my.hungry.mind
and I took it with disbelief painted on my face
the things she told me about..




                I cannot believe there once were -
green fields and trees with chirping birds
a blue sky
blue? not possible
I've never seen a blue sky
I think she was being kind to paint me portraits of psychedelia
   to entertain and distract me
   from the horror of our lives
I heard tales of things called flowers - daisies and things
like vegetables and fruit
it seemed funny to me - little beings in the ground,
                                       growing
                                       standing rooted, awaiting harvest-hands
               just for people??
uncredibill
waaaat???
no..  such depth of kindness I can hardly imagine
for we have had only *hard-earth.. most concreted
and drank only brack-water from collapsing pipes
no, an unforgiving-scene is all I know
yet
     she is so kind to feed me such fantasy-tales of deep-imaginashin
     pity she could not tell any others
     for any tenth-of-a-whisper of this to any wrong-ear
and her head would roll
in the gutter.. where we lived in contest with rats
she could only rally my mind and relay things which would die with her
things that she bequeaths
to me

what will I do with it? this legacy of forgotten-paradise..
what can I do?   this wonder-clad heresy..
                I now know thers a way out these city walls
                ther is a life beyond
with valleys and rivers and salty-seas
I must try to find a river
she told of oceans which live - which heave and swell and move!
she said these things too .. they exist
what quaint-things, indeed
oh, for dreems..

but now, I must off the streets
for a double-darkness has begun to fall
when red-eyes will scour the streets for scraps of flesh
        anything is worth a barter
        even a dead-man in a lane whose eyeballs are gone
        harshly-hacked out living - by a previous-visitor
becomes a piece of currency for seekers of the dark

I don't know what they've done to her.. or where she is now..
yet, she always said - keep moving
                                   keep searching
for blue-sky and flowing-rivers and yellow-flowers..
(I wonder if it's real
I do believ her - I must)*




now I scrape on in haste into a darkening-alley
towards a derelict-bilding
whose sinister-interior is the only welcome it can afford me
             I have little choice
             no time for sentiment
plus, I feel a fever coming (perhaps this is all the dreem.. and she is the only-flower I know)
the night-Rats will come out soon
and I hate their stink
it doesn't help I leave a trail of blood..




now
only hoap lives
on
in hobbled-soul

as I rite on with brokin-hand
onto the back-pages.. of my mind




S T -  5 octoblah

Words in my head. Unspoken Unsaid...but they slip and they slide ride out and deride bringing untamed desires to the fore. Words are the core. They are all that remain after heartache and pain when the world and its eyes and its peoples despise the lives that they live. Only words can forgive. But words in the head are impotent..they're dead. You can feed words to the starving but they cannot be force fed and thus words left unread.I've said it before..words are the core. Silent words are no good..never could be if no one ever could see what you're trying to say. Hiding words away behind a curtain is certain to obscure any meaning so when you have the leaning and you're ready to fall you have words that can call the words into a book to be read. Not unsaid but out loud to the crowd..to the throng. Is it so wrong to hear words that have love. Sweet Jesus above how could it be when words and their meanings mean so much to me.Do you see where this is leading..down the road of constant reading, with words and what they bring as they sing into today for each and everyone, until the day when words are gone. And that'll be a long time coming.

A black heart as cold as the oceans below
A broken heart left to wither and slow
Did I consider it? The consequence?
Of trying but failing to reach for the sky?
I don't think I ever understood the implications
Of learning the answer to the question why
When I learned the answer my lust for life was killed
My shallow sense of hopelessness was filled
Set back every time and forced to rebuild
My idealism was riddled with holes of misconception
Lies just keep coming from inexplicable directions
And I'm glaringly aware of my every imperfection
Why do I bother to struggle through my days?
Like a rat without a clue I'm lost in the maze
When I hold the map I always choose the wrong ways
And I am too old to think that this is just a phase
This is never ending; this is considered real
There is no room for happiness in what you should feel
I don't think I can live like this
I can't live with the memories of the friends I miss
I can't deal with all of my past transgressions
God doesn't love me because I don't do confessions
I'm not important so I don't get exceptions
I just sink down into the depths of depression
How many times am I expected to fight back?
When do you throw in the towel against the attack?
The attack that forms the very basis of life
A life that is filled with so much terror and strife
Every day beats me down; it's harder to get back up every time
It becomes impossible to convince myself that I'm fine
So my heart turns black like coal from the mines
As my soul finds shelter in a simple configuration of lines
Soon this will be all that's left of me
I will never live up to the person I want to be
Some might label my loss a catastrophe
Remember I told you from the beginning that I was a mess?
From the day you first saw me you knew I was depressed
And we shared and understanding that if I were to go
It would be no ones fault but my own
Please don't try to stop it now
I can't handle what this world has in store
But I promise I will be by your side forever
And you wont have to deal with me anymore
Im sorry if you are saddened by the initial shock
I love you so much and I'll miss you a lot
But the only permanent way out of this mess
The only way to stop feeling so much more less
Is to hang it up at the end of a rope
Until the end separates the pain from my ghost
Out of everyone I hope you understand the most
Because you and I were so close
I don't want to leave you but I've got to go
I can't do this again my heart is so low
Please let me make the journey in peace
A journey with a destination so incredibly sweet
A destination defined by never ending sleep
I want to die, dear, and we both know it was in the cards
We both knew my future was always marred
Don't miss me too much; I won't leave you side
I'll always be with you long after I've died
And on the day that it happens I hope you won't cry
I will be so content to forever just lie
I dont deserve anything i have any way
I dont deserve the promise of another day
I dont deserve friends and i dont deserve you
So I think that dying is the best thing to do
Killing myself will be easy
Leaving you will be harder than you know
But I'm finally beaten down and broken
I'm sorry but I've got to go

there were old men
laying around the
pool
like cigarette butts
in an ashtray
burnt out and
diminishing as
their feet
dangle in the water
lapping up against
their knees
they talked about
the old war
the good war
back in a time when
there was war to
believe in
now what?

now they have their
feet in a pool
fat white skin
burning in the moonlight
while knobby knees
are canvas to varicose
veins and the occasional
scar

--oh this one from
surgery, this one
from a foxhole
dug out some
hillside near Salerno
sliced up the
side of my leg
nice and good, yessir,
killed the
**** guinea
though don't worry--

and they would hold
out their arms
to explain how
they held those old
standard issue springfield's
while arthritis shook
that imaginary
rifle to the point
of danger but
they never noticed
leaning in to stare down
the sights
aiming carefully at
some elusive
foe across the pool

they would laugh at
how much they hated those
guns
they would laugh at
the insanity of it all
how young they had been
how old they were now
how much had changed
and how much hadn't
their wives were all gone
left widowed or divorced
all it seemed they had
was Tunisia or
Italy or that French
beach early morning in
1944

the world is a battlefield
for old men
with no
weaponry but old
stories caked in dust

(totally unedited)



what is this madness in the world??
how is this even happening??
so, we have not enough scourges...??
matters little what creed or colour

these are human beings
just like you and me
and children...

no, this is insane
perhaps I have not enough in me
to understand this level of madness
to cope with this


this is insane




st64......thurs, 22 aug